You're a gem, my Suzy girl, yes you are.
John and I didn't spend a lot of time together, myself being busy cutting a bit of a swath through the community - (he WAS remote, and supercool, and a bit braggy about his exploits, but a good guy, I guess), - but in a way so as not to hurt anybody.
That was the major difference between Mr. D. and me, I think - he had no idea the hurt he was causing, while I was incurably romantic and subscribing to the 'love somebody, then let them fly' philosophy. Basically, I loved women, and I suspect Mr. D didn't like them very much at all. And maybe that's why he was a little tetched by the time we left to head out west. Tetched enough to ..... (expletives and some details expurgated in recognition of Mr. D's continuing friendship....) and leaving for the middle of the ball field, where I used to go when I had a bad trip going on. I remember at least one night when you walked with me through a terrible bummer I was having, hallucinating violence and all... I always felt so easy and calm with you...
Love is blind - and the unrequiteable receiver just as blind. Your story of John G. sending you that letter, praising his new wife and all, it seems so unfeeling, but it is probable that he never knew how deeply you loved him. When I left St Mags I was still blinded by Love, mostly for Hed, sure, but also for the whole community, the innocence we all put aside. The death of the '60's, my God, I was sooo sad! So many of us left that place with business unfinished, I think, me heading for some place called Winnipeg, when all I wanted was to stay in that little hole in the woods with you all, because we all seemed to need the place so much. Mr. D and I traveled together, and I'd break down now and then, and he'd call me a wimp. Fuckin man... I phoned him just this past birthday, we were both May 26th babies, him in '50, me in '51. We talked for an hour and a half, and I understood what our friendship was made of, and how eternal that part of my life was. He lost everything, then gained it mostly back - his Mom and Dad are gone, his wife also, and he's been a very sad man. Karma... Lennon was right of course. He's heading this way, maybe. We'll meet for coffees and talk about the whole schlamoozle. And I'll tell him that, really, it's all okay with me now. And that he's still probably the best friend I ever had, or so my perverse and "mature" heart tells me - I managed to hang onto that last bit of late-60s innocence, so that in my travels I still get surprised by life, by people, all the time.
When I was in my first year in the Forces in Ottawa, I received a wedding invitation from Hed. I went downtown, bought a dime, and smoked the whole thing in back of the Parliament buildings and cried and cried. Oh God, such a hurting little guy I was, so torn away from, so needy... such a baby, unready for life and what it had to dish out to me. I had such a feeling of loss, such a giant hole in my soul.
I'm better now. It's because I never lost that last little bit of innocence, of Hope. And, miracle, so many others that I knew and loved are still wide-eyed to a near enough degree that we all can still hold ourselves close.
I'd like to dig up a couple of pics and post this on my personal blog - would that be okay? I'm overflowing this morning.
Love you, my lmsqk,
Perry.
